


Rosemary

by minimalcoloration



Series: The Secret Robin Documents [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Other, Robin is literally the love of my life lol, Suicidal Thoughts, one sided pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minimalcoloration/pseuds/minimalcoloration
Summary: For all of his genius, he is a fool, for all of the battles he has won, he has lost. It is clearer now than it ever was before.





	Rosemary

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, sorry.

The only time he is free is when the sun dips far below the horizon, when the sleeping dragon dips its head into the crevice its body forms as it curls, when the darkened soul in control finally releases the iron grip on the depths of his spirit and lets him go. Sometimes he wanders, haunts the halls in exhausted silence, others he simply lays within his- their- thoughts and frowns at the burning in the depths of his emotion. Nights like these are when they are the weakest. Quiet, sleepless nights where the only form of companionship stems from the wind that occasionally blows his hair over his eyes, where the only difference between the darkness of their shared body and the dark of the outside are the tears that threaten to spill over. 

Robin silently wills the heavy weight off of his shoulders, hushes the painful swell of longing before it wakes an even worse feeling, and stalks to the library.

Reading brings him calm, digs a grave for all of his anxieties, and buries them six feet under so that he can feel like himself.

The library is sparsely lit, cold, yet still retaining the sense of familiarity that settles the tension in his shoulders and makes him feel like he’s back at home. On a table near the entrance, a candle sits barely touched by the myriad of heroes that filter through the library in the day, it’s handle cold to his gloveless touch. Robin begins skimming the shelves, nothing in mind, and reads titles one by one, silently mouthing their titles to himself, A History of Magic, The Use of Herbs in Potions and Healing Rituals, and The History of Ylissian Tactics. Robin pauses and runs his finger along the spine of the weathered navy blue colored text; he’s read this one before. Swiftly removing it from it’s spot on his shelf, he holds it against himself as he moves away from the shelves against the wall and into the middle, where tables and desks of various sizes are left out along with chairs to encourage reading. However, when he reaches the desk in the farthest corner of the section- the one his more fortunate counterpart frequents often- he doesn’t find an empty desk.

Kiran, barely illuminated by the warm color of the candle, head buried in-between crossed arms on top of a freshly opened novel greets him. Beside them, stacks of books of various topics and colors form almost a barrier of sorts around the bottom of the desk, and upon closer inspection he finds them fast asleep. It hits him then, how beautiful Kiran is, and causes the uneasy thoughts to fight up into his throat and weigh him down. Robin wants to wake them up, ask them why they were here at this hour, but he’s not Robin, he knows his place now, and opts to sit at a table close by. The History of Ylissian Tactics is exactly what he remembered, the introductory essay is as lengthy as it was back when he read it the first time, in the barracks late at night, listening to the faint sound of crickets as they make their way through the calm night, and for a second, he feels like he hasn’t left. The smell of rosemary hits him as fresh as the smell of wax and ink that surround his atmosphere.

It’s home, and maybe if he closes his eyes he will never leave it, he has no one to ask for any wishes, not as he is, not when he’s not Robin. When he’s here though, in the midst of ink and rosemary mixing together to form a strange combination Chrom always called foul but he called familiar, he feels like he does. Robin misses freedom, misses the burning of Rosemary after a hard day of battles, misses talking to Chrom until late at night when his companion would go to sleep, misses writing a myriad of strategies as time slips away almost too quickly to count, misses placing his heart into his tactics and placing his heart onto the pages of a journal he would soon pass down to Morgan-

A snore snaps him out of his reverie and he finds himself crying, tears dripping onto the cover of the text in his hands, he doesn’t know when he closed it. Robin looks up at Kiran, thinking, wondering, placing his tactics where his heart lies, and wipes the tears off his face. Finding a reason, an explanation for his feelings, and it hits him like a hammer. Kiran, insistently nice and insistently talkative, reminds him of himself. Relentless in their pursuit for friendship, even when it’s with a dragon far beyond their reach, seemingly unforgiving in the kindness they share with everyone, yet soundly firm in their opinions. Kiran has the freedom he does not, and it seems like a rather horrible night to feel emotions now, has the love he cannot have, has the bravery he wishes he had sooner.

Is he jealous? Mayhap, he might as well be. The fell dragon gets all their attention, while he gets none, gets all of their freedom, while he remains trapped. Why? Why should someone who forcibly stole everything from him have everything else? It’s always been in the back of his mind, he’s never really stopped thinking about it, ever since he lost. It’s because he lost, because he was foolish, because he loved too much and still loves too much, because he didn’t think about the consequences of his reckless mistakes. Robin has loved and lost and maybe that’s why every time he sees the fell dragon walk by Chrom he wants to tear up, maybe that’s why they ever walk by Chrom anymore. He is yet a fool, and as he gazes upon Kiran he smiles.

He’s jealous. Grima has taken everything he has held dear before, his life, his friends, his tactics, himself. When he walks it’s not his gaze, when he speaks it’s not his words, when he acts it’s not his actions. Robin is nothing but a ghost in the back of his own mind, a tragedy on its last stages. Nights like these, the only times when Robin feels like Robin but not really, are they something he really wants? Are they something he’s happy with? No. He’d rather be dead, he feels dead already, all it’ll take is one last step and it’s over. Robin wonders how his Chrom is, how his world is, how nice it is there. Wonders what his lucky counterpart is like, wonders about the life he leads, does he love as much, and does he live as much? He contemplates waking Kiran up and asking them, but once again, refrains. Kiran doesn’t know, doesn’t see him. Kiran only sees the victor of a war long finished, the ghost that haunts his body and bears his face. Mayhap for the better, maybe Kiran didn’t need to see the sorrows of a man conquered when he can see the happiness of a man free. It’s for the better, he repeats, don’t hurt anyone else, don’t be selfish look where that got you the first time.

Indeed, their summoner was better off not knowing, better off grasping for attention from someone who will never give it to them, better off living happier. Robin feels the slow rumble of something waking inside of him and stands. Moving to Kiran’s desk, he quietly blows out their candle and his own, placing the long forgotten book on top of their premade pile, and leaves the hollow comfort of the library for the next Robin to find. The break of dawn catches his eye and he leans against one of the stone window frames and watches the sun rise. 

For all of his genius, he is a fool, and for all of the battles he has won, he has lost. It is clearer now than it ever was before.

**Author's Note:**

> x-posted from Tunglr dot com.  
> drivedef on tumblr
> 
> Rosemary is used as a healing scent in aromatherapy, which is a huge contradiction to what is actually happening in this fic but I'm a sucker for contradictory symbolism used to convey a characters emotions.
> 
> I actually haven't publicly published a Robin fic even though I have hundreds written over these past few years, so I guess there's a first for everything.


End file.
